


Empty

by ennuithereyet



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Lie Low At Lupin's, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Sirius Black in Azkaban, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-10 20:53:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11699712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ennuithereyet/pseuds/ennuithereyet
Summary: Sirius Black has a hard time remembering what it's like to be human after thirteen years in Azkaban. Remus helps him remember.





	1. Samson

**Author's Note:**

> [Samson - Regina Spektor](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p62rfWxs6a8)
> 
> [My Tumblr](http://nonbinaries-on-ice.tumblr.com/)

_You are my sweetest downfall_  
_I loved you first, I loved you first_  
_Beneath the stars came fallin' on our heads_  
_But they're just old light, they're just old light_  
_Your hair was long when we first met_

* * *

 

Sirius hesitated in front of Remus’s door, his hand raised as if he were going to knock. He was trying to knock, but he couldn’t. What was he trying to do here? Why was he pretending he could do this? What would Remus think of him, so different from the boy he’d been in school?

Sirius noticed the curtains on the living room window pull back an inch, Remus peeking through for just a second. He noticed everything now. The paranoia did that to him. Still, Sirius stood there, and Remus let him. He didn’t know how long it was before Remus gave up and opened the door, but suddenly there he was in front of him.

“Sirius,” he said.

Sirius opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Then, he was hugging Remus, holding tight to him this life that was so precious. He could feel Remus’s breath, hot and damp on his neck; his arms, slowly curling around Sirius’s bony frame; if he listened close enough, he could hear his heart beating heavily in his chest, feel the blood pulsing through his veins.

They stayed there, on the threshold of the cottage, for a time that felt short to Sirius but in reality was quite long. Remus was the one who pulled away, keeping his hands on Sirius’s arms.

“Come in, come in,” Remus said gently, having to tug Sirius a bit to get him moving inside.

Sirius’s joints felt stiff as he came to and stepped inside the cottage. He took in everything - every picture on the walls, every dusty knick-knack on the tables, every worn-out piece of furniture - and yet none of it fazed him or stuck in his mind.

Remus led Sirius over to the couch in the living room and sat him down, helping him as one would an elderly person.

“How about some tea, then?” Remus asked.

Sirius nodded slowly. He noticed Remus’s hand reach close to his hair, as if to push it away from his face, but then Remus was gone; Sirius heard his footsteps fade slightly as he walked into the kitchen. Sirius didn’t move as he waited for Remus to return, which he did several minutes later, carrying two mugs.

“Ginger tea,” Remus said, setting a mug on the coffee table in front of Sirius. “I know it’s your favorite.” But there was a question in his voice, as if he weren’t so sure if it was still true.

Sirius looked at the steaming mug for a minute, feeling like he was missing something, like there was a step he was forgetting.

Eventually he remembered it. “Thank you,” he said, his voice rough from disuse. He picked up the mug with both hands and brought it to his mouth. The first sip burned his tongue and throat on the way down. He took another burning sip before setting the mug down again.

Remus was watching him, still standing. Sirius looked up at him, eyes daring to stray to his face before dipping down to the safer view of the mug in his hands. Remus’s nickname might be Moony, but to Sirius there’d always been something about looking at him that was like looking at the sun. After being in darkness for so long, he looked so bright it hurt.

“Peppermint?” Sirius asked, still looking at Remus’s mug.

It took Remus a minute to realize what Sirius was talking about. “Oh,” he said, “yes. Would you rather…?”

“No,” Sirius said, shaking his head. His hair felt wild and matted as it shook with him. His eyes settled back on his own mug on the table. It had flowers on it. Remus could probably tell him what kind; probably had them in his garden. A long time ago, Sirius might have known their name as well. “This is fine.”

Remus rocked up onto his toes for a long moment before walking closer and sitting next to Sirius on the couch. He left a few inches between them, but Sirius could still feel the heat of his body. He was very conscious of just how alive Remus was in that moment. More alive than himself.

“How are you feeling?” Remus asked gently. Sirius felt Remus’s eyes on him, and without looking back tried to pinpoint the emotion in them. Pity? Fear? Worry?

Sirius opened his mouth, then closed it again. He tried once more, and this time a word came out without him even thinking it first. “Empty.”

“Oh,” Remus breathed. There was something deep in that exhalation, something Sirius couldn’t pin down. If he had to choose a word, he’d say ‘heartbreak.’

Remus set down his mug on the table and held out a hand to Sirius. It hovered two inches from Sirius’s thin arm for a minute, but Sirius still flinched when he finally felt the hand on him, just a thin layer of fabric separating their skin.

“I… I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now,” Remus said, “but I want you to know that whatever you need, whatever you want, I’ll try my best to get it for you.”

Sirius nodded a few times. He tried to think of wanting anything, but the thoughts had to fight through the fog that had taken up most of the space in his head. Thinking was hard these days.

“Is there anything I can get you?” Remus asked, as if he sensed Sirius’s difficulties. “Food, a shower, clean clothes…?”

The list helped a word stick in Sirius’s head and make its way down to his mouth. “Shower,” he mumbled.

Remus nodded. “The bathroom’s just down the hall to the left,” he said. “You’re welcome to use it whenever you want.”

Sirius hesitated for a minute before getting up and heading towards where Remus had indicated.

“I’ll lay out some fresh clothes and a towel for you,” Remus said, also getting up.

Sirius didn’t respond, already in the bathroom. At first he turned the water on too hot, relishing in the feeling of it burning his skin, but when that got too much to bear and tears were welling in his eyes he turned it down colder, so much so that he was nearly shivering. He washed that way, scrubbing away layer after layer of dirt until his skin was paler than it was before Azkaban, before ten years of darkness. He tried washing his hair, but even the conditioner couldn’t get out some of the tangles. At least it was cleaner, even if it was still knotted. He found a razor and shaved off all of the facial hair he had, watching it run down the drain.

Once he was done in the shower, Sirius opened the curtain to find a stack of clothes and a towel just inside the door. It scared Sirius that he’d missed hearing Remus open the door. He must have been too caught up in the process of rinsing away years of grime to notice. But if he didn’t notice that, what else could he have missed? With so many people after him, wanting to send him back… back _there_ , he couldn’t afford to slip up like this.

Sirius felt his breath speeding up until it seemed he couldn’t take in enough air. Then, suddenly, he fell to his knees and leaned over the toilet, vomiting up the meager contents of his stomach. He retched a few more times, his stomach trying to expel things that weren’t even there, before sitting back and wiping his mouth with his newly-cleaned arm. He took some deep breaths, grabbing the towel Remus had laid out for him. He wiped his arm and his mouth with it, and then wrapped it around himself, shivering all over now. He stayed there for a few minutes, kneeling in front of the toilet, until he was sure he wasn’t going to retch again. He was fairly certain he hadn’t blinked the entire time.

Eventually, his legs moved, standing him up. His arm reached out and flushed the toilet. Sirius mechanically dressed in the clothes that Remus gave him, trying to ignore how they were almost falling off his frame even though Remus wasn’t a very large man himself. He pushed himself back-first into a corner and looked around the small room. He noted all the details. The dark grout between the tiles in the shower. The toothbrush by the sink that needed to be replaced. The paint peeling from the wooden frame of the oval mirror. There wasn’t anything behind him, he told himself. He could see everything.

Once he was sufficiently calm, Sirius left the bathroom. Remus looked at him, and Sirius wondered if he’d heard him vomit. He tried to find it in him to care - some modicum of dignity or even shame - but came up empty.

Sirius and Remus stood there, looking at each other, for a few minutes.

“Your hair,” Remus eventually said.

Sirius reached up and touched it. It’d grown long over the past thirteen years, down to his hips. The ends were broken and frayed, and it had knots and tangles all over.

“Do you want me to brush it for you?” Remus asked.

Sirius considered. He didn’t _not_ want Remus to do that, in the sense that he was fairly certain it wouldn’t cause him to panic. And he thought it would be nice to have untangled hair again. He nodded at Remus.

“Okay,” Remus said. “Why don’t you sit and I’ll get the brush?”

Sirius did as Remus suggested, checking around the room while Remus was in the bathroom. He sat on the floor in front of the couch, folding his legs up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

Remus returned and sat on the couch behind Sirius. “I’m going to start brushing your hair now, okay?” he asked, and Sirius wondered why he’d felt the need to announce it until he remembered what just happened in the bathroom and the flinch earlier when Remus touched his arm. Remus had been paying attention.

Sirius nodded once, and then he felt Remus start brushing out a section of his hair. Remus was obviously trying to be gentle, but the knots were tough, and he had to tug a little to get at them. Though the tugging at knots was new, the entire action itself was familiar. Sirius closed his eyes and found a blurry memory. Remus, brushing Sirius’s hair years ago, tinged yellow by the light of the Gryffindor common room. There were two other people on either side of Remus, but their faces were struggling to come into focus. Sirius opened his eyes before they could.

After about an hour of brushing, Remus stopped. “Some of these won’t come out; they’re too matted,” he said. He set the brush down on the table in front of Sirius. It looked familiar. It was his brush from school. Sirius didn’t know Remus had it.

“I think,” Remus said, slowly as if he were choosing each word very carefully, “I think we might have to cut it.” Sirius felt Remus brace himself for the impact of the words to get to Sirius, but it was all for naught.

Sirius didn’t react. He considered how he felt about the prospect of cutting his hair and realized he felt nothing. His hair, which had once meant the world to him, was just hair now. “Okay,” he told Remus.

“Okay?” Remus asked. Sirius’s lack of reaction seemed to scare him more than the one he’d initially feared.

“Okay,” Sirius repeated blankly.

Remus hesitated before getting up off the couch. He went into the kitchen and Sirius watched him return with an old pair of scissors. He sat back down behind Sirius.

“Are you sure about this?” Remus asked.

“Do it,” Sirius said. “You said you couldn’t save it, so do it.”

Remus was quiet and still for a long time before he took a bunch of Sirius’s hair in one hand and opened the scissors in preparation. “I’ll have to cut it close to your head,” he warned. Sirius felt the side of the cold metal blade against his head.

With a quiet _shink,_ the scissors closed and Sirius’s long hair floated to the floor.

 

* * *

 

 _Samson came to my bed_  
_Told me that my hair was red_  
_Told me I was beautiful, and came into my bed_  
_Oh, I cut his hair myself one night_  
_A pair of dull scissors in the yellow light_  
_And he told me that I'd done alright_  
_And kissed me till the mornin' light, the mornin' light_  
_And he kissed me till the mornin' light_


	2. One More Time With Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius's first night at Remus's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so much longer than expected! Lots of stuff going on right now, and this is a pretty heavy story for me to write so it takes a lot of emotional energy. Hopefully other chapters won't take so long.
> 
> [My Tumblr](http://nonbinaries-on-ice.tumblr.com/)
> 
> ["One More Time With Feeling" - Regina Spektor](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ysuns_3Qweo)

_Everyone takes turns_  
_Now it's yours to play the part_  
_And they're sitting all around you_  
_Holding copies of your chart_  
_And the misery inside their eyes is_  
_Synchronized and reflecting into yours_

_Hold on_  
_One more time with feeling_  
_Try it again, breathing's just a rhythm_  
_Say it in your mind until you know that the words are right_  
_This is why we fight_

 

* * *

 

 

Sirius went to look at the end result while Remus swept up the hair. He didn’t recognize the person in the mirror. This person had black hair roughly cut close to the head, grey eyes pressed deep into sockets, the circles underneath them almost making them look bruised. They had high cheekbones and a gaunt, drawn look to their skin. Their lips were chapped and pale, pressed together into a frown. Their neck was long, Adam’s apple protruding. Lower down, the collar bones protruded similarly, making their skin look paper-thin and fragile.

Sirius pulled down the collar of his shirt and looked at one of the tattoos on his chest, the sigils he’d placed there himself in an attempt to protect himself from the dementors. Like anything but _expecto patronum_ could help against them. He let go of his collar and let the shirt cover the ink again.

There was a light knock on the door frame. Sirius’s head whipped to the side to find Remus standing there.

“It’s…” Sirius could almost hear what Remus wanted to say - _It’s not that bad, you know_. But Remus had never been one to lie to Sirius. Not until… Sirius’s mind refused to continue the thought.

“It’ll grow back,” Remus said instead. “It’ll be long again before you know it.”

Sirius looked back at the person in the mirror, and they nodded simultaneously.

 

Sirius sat quietly on the sofa for the rest of the afternoon, knees pulled to his chest again, trying to pack himself up small. Occasionally he’d reach for the mug on the table and take sips of his now-cold tea. Remus offered to make him a fresh mug, but Sirius shook his head.

When it started to get dark outside, Remus approached Sirius again. He’d been giving Sirius some space for the afternoon.

“I was thinking of making chicken and potatoes for dinner,” Remus said. “I know it’s simple, but-”

“It’s fine,” Sirius said, not looking at Remus but rather at the turned-off television on the other side of the coffee table. He wasn’t really hungry. Or maybe he was just used to it by now.

Remus shifted his weight to his other foot, then nodded and went into the kitchen.

A little while later, Remus brought two plates of food into the living room. He set one down next to Sirius’s mug and sat down with the other in his lap. He began to eat.

Wordlessly, Sirius unfolded himself and leaned over the table. He started eating with his hands, eyes passing over the silverware Remus had brought him without even realizing it was there.

He felt eyes on him and stopped eating. He looked over at Remus and then he realized what he was doing wrong. He slowly straightened up, still looking over at Remus. He finally broke the eye contact and found the silverware. It felt heavy and odd in his hands, knife in his right, fork in the left. He stared at them for a minute before his brain worked out how to use them. It didn’t feel natural anymore to eat like this. He cut the chicken into too-big pieces. He shoveled mashed potatoes into his mouth like he had to eat as quickly as possible. He finished the plate before Remus had finished his own chicken.

“Would you like more?” Remus asked.

Sirius considered, looking at the potatoes on Remus’s plate, before deciding against it. He shook his head, only remembering a moment later that he had a voice. “No,” he said. “No, thank you.” Sirius looked up at Remus’s face for a moment, and he thought he saw the barest hint of a smile.

 

Later that night, when the waxing crescent moon was high in the sky and Remus had finished the dishes, Sirius yawned.

“Ready for bed?” Remus asked.

It was a moment before Sirius nodded.

“You can take the bedroom,” Remus said. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No,” Sirius said. “No, it’s fine. I can sleep out here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Sirius said. “Please. I don’t want to take your room.”

Remus looked like he was going to say something, but he closed his mouth and nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll help you set up the couch.” He got up and went to the linen closet in the hall, retrieving sheets, a blanket, and a pillow.

Silently, Remus and Sirius worked together to make up the couch. When they were done, they stood facing each other.

Sirius felt like he was supposed to do something. Part of him wanted to touch Remus, to hold him close again and remember that he was alive and real. There was something rooting him to the floor, though; something that made him just say, “Well…. ‘Night.”

“Good night, Sirius,” Remus said. “I’ll be in the bedroom if you need anything.”

Remus went into the bathroom, then the bedroom, leaving Sirius there by himself.

Sirius looked at the couch. He sat on it for a few minutes before trying lying down. He started on his back, then tried his side. His shoulder sunk uncomfortably into the cushion. He wasn’t used to sleeping on anything soft.

He went to take a piss. He borrowed Remus’s toothbrush, not even thinking to ask first. He went back to the living room and tried lying down again.

After an hour or so of restlessness, Sirius grabbed the blanket and went to the corner. He laid down on the wood floor, pulling the blanket over himself. He tried closing his eyes and sleeping, but despite the fact that he was exhausted, sleep wouldn’t take him.

He hadn’t slept in his human form in years. Not since he realized he could keep the dementors out of his mind easier when he was Padfoot.

Once Sirius had tried, unsuccessfully, to sleep as a human for another hour or so, he decided to give up. He transformed into Padfoot.

Things were easier as Padfoot. His mind was clearer. He didn’t have to worry about thinking too much. The fears still got to him, but they were more muted, more bearable.

He walked a few circles on the blanket, then laid down in the corner and tried to sleep.

 

Things continued in much the same way for the next few days. Remus didn’t say anything about Sirius sleeping on the floor as Padfoot, even though he’d seen him doing it. Remus would cook each meal for them, and Sirius would eat less and less each time. He’d forgotten how much food three meals a day was. Sirius showered each day, taking advantage of the luxury, and he kept borrowing Remus’s too-big clothes. Sirius tried to hide each time he panicked, but he couldn’t quite manage.

The first time Remus saw Sirius panic, Sirius couldn’t even remember what had set him off. They were just in the living room together, Remus talking to him about something - Sirius still wasn’t very good at talking himself for long periods of time - and then suddenly it felt like there was a band around his lungs, tightening. He felt cold all over - maybe that’s what had triggered it, a cold breeze from the open window - and he was certain it was the dementors coming for him again.

“No,” he gasped out, interrupting whatever Remus was saying. He fell out of his seat, crawled into the corner and pressed back into it so hard it hurt.

“Sirius?” Remus asked gently. He was clearly surprised, but pushed the feeling away for more helpful ones in that moment. “What happened, Sirius?”

Sirius shook his head, swallowed even though his throat was bone dry. He glanced at the window pointedly before his wild eyes jumped all around the room. “They’re coming,” he rasped.

Remus looked at the window, then went over to it. He felt another cold breeze, and it took him a minute to connect the dots. He pushed the window closed.

“It’s okay,” Remus assured Sirius, turning towards him and taking a careful step closer. “Nothing is coming for you. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Sirius shook, trying to believe the words. He whispered them furtively to himself.

Remus crouched down near Sirius, keeping a careful distance. “Do you want me to cast my Patronus?” he asked.

Sirius nodded, and Remus stood, pulling out his wand. He cast his Patronus, a silver-white wolf emerging from his wand. It seemed to sense Sirius’s distress and went to lay protectively in front of him.

Sirius started to feel warm again. Remus’s Patronus wasn’t solid or tangible, but it seemed to dispel warmth anyway. The band on Sirius’s lungs loosened and he could start to breathe again. He went to run his hands through his hair, but there wasn’t much hair to run them through.

“Do you feel better now?” Remus asked after a few minutes.

“Yeah,” Sirius breathed. “I… yeah.”

“Do you still need my Patronus?”

Sirius wanted to say yes, but he knew how hard it could be to keep a Patronus around, so he shook his head.

Remus relaxed, and the silver-white wolf disappeared. Then it was just him and Sirius, Remus crouched in front of the man still pressed into the corner. Remus extended a hand. After a few minutes, Sirius took it, and Remus helped him stand.

 

The next day, an owl pecked on the window. Remus let it in and took a letter and small satchel from it as Sirius watched from the couch. The owl flew off without any response and Remus opened the letter. “Dumbledore sent us some money,” Remus said. “That means we can get you some clothes of your own.”

Sirius nodded. It was weird, the prospect of actually owning something. He hadn’t owned anything in so long.

“I think I’ll have to go shopping for you,” Remus said. “We can’t risk you being seen…”

Sirius nodded again. “That’s fine,” he said.

“I’m sorry you’re stuck here,” Remus told Sirius.

Sirius shrugged. “Used to being stuck places.” He didn’t look at Remus when he said it, but he felt the sadness in Remus’s gaze.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

_You thought by now you'd be_  
_So much better than you are_  
_You thought by now they'd see_  
_That you had come so far_

_And the pride inside their eyes_  
_Would be synchronized into a love you've never known_  
_So much more than you've been shown_

**Author's Note:**

> I'm planning on this being 5-6 chapters, but things have a tendency of running away from me so it might end up longer.


End file.
